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Alami Laroussi Sofia

The dark realm of solitude

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The dark realm of solitude. (2023) 

By Sofia Alami-Laroussi

 

Lack of love is a curse, especially if you want to escape it and be at peace with yourself, especially when you want to be surrounded by an imaginary and desired light, especially when you want to feel intense and immortal happiness.

My definition of loneliness is simple and at the same time complicated; it is a deep emotional pain in the soul/heart and not being able to feel comfortable with your own being for fear of the imaginary abandonment of your own self, it is an irrational hatred of solitude and unconditional love to the rejection of oneself, it is a fear of the dark and not being able to find the light in any corner of the so hated, dull and complicated world, and it is the ignorance of self and the dread of knowing this same ignorance of oneself.

This fear hurts, because you do not really know who you are, you only know that you are existing for a purpose that no one can tell you, you are lost and you must understand the reason why you have been and are lost, you must understand why you are what you are and why you exist, you must learn to know the unknown of your self, and that terror of the unknown makes you bleed and feel dead.

How bad must the world be that the human being is afraid to be alone with her self?

How bad must the world be to be afraid of abandonment, both real and imaginary?

How bad must the world be that hatred is very present in the human heart?

It is lovely, at the same time as painful, how we desire to have a hero, a hero who grasps our delicate and broken bodies in her strong arms, a hero who sees us with confidence, security, and many other qualities that we lack for our being. She can grasp a soul bandage, stop the bleeding of the so hated and loved human pain, and wipe our tears of blood with her white hands. The fact that what I am describing is imaginary already hurts and makes me lose water from my eyes, and it is one of the infinite reasons that makes us feel in a loop of immortal and infinite agony.

Since we start our experience and existence as human beings, humanity automatically destroys us, humanity breaks us, humanity kills us, and it is our duty to fix with gold everything that has been taken and killed from us; that is the meaning of life that we have been educated and learned by force, to fix what we have been broken in a corrupted and dead realm, to heal in an abyss that must not frighten us with its terrifying dullness and with our own imaginary soul force, with our gaze raised and our souls bloodied and dead, move forward to a future that is already a dead end and killed by the broken humanity itself.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my definition of loneliness, represented with the vision of a Dark realm of solitude as a metaphor. I hope you never enjoy it, because it is a truth that nobody wants to admit to themselves, because unfortunately, they were born broken and damaged enough to realize that humanity is, in a pure reality, evil, demonic, monstruous, and last but not least, dead.

 

 




Envie isto: 17:04 Tue, 16 January 2024 par: Alami Laroussi Sofia age: 21

Alami Laroussi Sofia

A nihilistic, humanistic and dark imaginary philosophical point of view, the short writing


A nihilistic, humanistic and dark imaginary philosophical point of view, the short-writing.

By Sofia Alami-Laroussi

The world is a dark, cold and burning physical reality, humanity is a huge herd of demons living at the expense of that darkness, that darkness is fed by the ego, anger, hatred, and everything that humanity itself represents.

Many would say that nature created said darkness and therefore, these demons, but humanity also made an imaginary creation, a creation that could explain all kinds of questions regarding their existence, an all-powerful benevolent god who forgives and controls everything. 

Humanity desperately wants to believe that there is something good to believe in, that there is something that controls its destiny and forgives all its sins, that there is something to fight for, there is something to take care of, that there is a light of hope that resides in the depths of the soul and that illuminates even the darkest dullness. but.. is that perspective even true?

That light of hope that resides in each soul is what keeps us steadfast, we can all feel it because we are all living by and because of it. We know we have it, we let it encourge us, and with it we enlighten those who cannot see it on their own.

That light of hope is what many call God, because thanks to it that loneliness is not so painful,

Thanks to it we can stand and move forward,

Thanks to it we can illuminate and drive away our wildest demons,

Thanks to it we have superpowers,

Thanks to it we can face death itself.

Another humanistic interpretation of God is to know the oneself and from there have a self-observation towards the existence and life in question, but..

What good comes from it if our grave is awaiting us in the other corner?

What good does it do for us to be empathetic and loved, if we or they are going to break our hearts the day we all disconnect from our lives? 

What good is it do to possess emotional connections if the maximum we can give to them are empty promises that we will always be together and safe with our joint existence, even when death itself is laughing at that promise?

 




Envie isto: 17:21 Tue, 16 January 2024 par: Alami Laroussi Sofia age: 21

Alami Laroussi Sofia

The art of drawing wings with black blood

The art of drawing wings with black blood.

By Sofia Alami-Laroussi

 

You turn around and everything behind you is an empty and painful dead space made with black blood, in that darkness you can notice certain attributes that are intimidating and terrifying, but despite this, you are brave and capable enough of picking up a brush and making a work of art out of said dark paint. Perhaps you want to draw wings, if they are black they look much prettier, if you want to use another colour you are probably lying to yourself.

You, terrified and traumatised creature, should not run from it because the more you attempt to run, the faster it will catch you and the less time you will have to realize that this will only temporarily torture you, but it will not kill you. You might believe that it is better to die, that it is better to escape infinitely from your feared psychological pain using death as your black broken submarine, but unfortunately, once you access the nothingness, you lose the everythingness.

Death, in my deranged perspective, is an opaque dull colour, that has no tone and no return, a void where you no longer and will never be able to exist. Perhaps that non-existence is desirable and tempting, and perhaps that disconnection with life is what many of us believe that we need, but it is only a maybe, because there is no guarantee of returning to confirm our theory of the much-desired mortality and infinite dull escape.

Instead of running from the black painful paint, allow it to catch you, humiliate you, torment you and mark you with its dark dead visions. It will eventually touch you, poison and die by itself, because you, misunderstood artist, have made art with its darkness and now there is nothing that black wings cannot break or overcome.

 

 

 


 




Envie isto: 18:05 Tue, 16 January 2024 par: Alami Laroussi Sofia age: 21